menu_book Chapter 36

36. The Second Endowments. After I had consented, and, in reality, given my husband a second wife, my status in Mormon polygamic society was very considerably improved. First wives who lived in, and firmly believed, this order of celestial marriage, tried in every way to make me feel that I was one with them, and those who had not so much faith felt more kindly towards me because I had been caught in

the same snare with themselves. Every polygamic wife, whether first, second, third, or tenth, no matter how much or how little she may believe in celestial marriage, no matter how refined or how coarse and degraded her nature may chance to be, cannot help feeling that her position is inferior to that of a monogamic wife. On this account, many of the Mormon women are never satisfied until they have drawn every woman of their acquaintance down to their own level.

The influence of this supposed revelation is by no means elevating or refining. I was now upon an equal footing with the other first wives. They had therefore no hesitation in confiding to me their griefs, and, situated as I was, I had abundant opportunities of hearing stories of cruelty, wrong, and suffering under the celestial system. Many of them so utterly revolting that I would not dream of relating them again. Polygamy among the Mormons is so

involved in disgusting and disgraceful details that a modest woman would not dare to relate all she knew. In this book I have endeavored to be true to my title and to tell all as far as such a thing was possible, but there are thousands of horrible incidents, too degrading for mention, which form part and parcel of the system of polygamy, but which no woman who had any respect for herself would think of putting upon paper. Previous to the time when my husband took his

second wife, although I had learned too much, I had to a certain extent been kept in the dark, respecting some of the vile and loathsome practices of polygamy. But after that, by slow degrees, I was thoroughly initiated into the system. Visitors to Utah would perhaps notice in the faces of the Mormon wives a dull, careworn, weary expression, altogether the reverse of what contented look is seen among Gentile women. But those very women would never disclose to the

stranger the depth of that sorrow which is wearing away their lives. Some few indeed have been led to speak of their troubles, but they afterwards found that the very persons in whom they confided most distorted and exaggerated every word that they had uttered for the sake of making a good story for the press. In many cases the names of those who were thoughtless enough to expose their sorrows, together with little personal matters which should never have been made public, were put into print,

and when the matter came before the church authorities, as in course of time it was certain to do, there was a great deal of trouble and unpleasantness. Women consequently, as a rule, tell nothing, and bookmakers and people connected with the press, while they give to the world astonishing stories of what they have heard, know really nothing of the truth. When a smart man or a man connected with the press comes to Utah, the church authorities take him in hand at once. He

is carried here and there, and treated with the utmost deference. A pair of Mormon spectacles is placed by Brigham, or one of his numerous factotums, upon the visitor's eyes, and through them he looks at all that transpires. Then comes a glowing account in the papers, or else apocryphal stories appear in the visitor's last new book, and unsophisticated people who innocently suppose that all that is in print must be true, begin to think that the stories of the evil doing of the

prophet, which from time to time have crept out, were only scandalous reports, and that Brigham Young, like somebody else who shall be nameless, was, after all, not quite so black as he has been painted. The intelligent saints, however, are not thus deceived. They may hold to Mormonism, and may regard Brigham in his priestly capacity as a prophet, but they are not blind to his sins. I could, from my own personal knowledge, mention the names of men in whom Brigham Young has the

fullest confidence, and who are in daily communication with him. Their faith, in most instances, has really fled, though in name they are still saints. They bow the knee before the prophet's throne, but in their hearts they despise him, for years of intercourse with him have taught them what he really is. This is, however, carefully hidden from the outer world. A gentleman who had for five years resided in Salt Lake City said to me a few months ago, Mrs. Denhouse, when I had been

here about three weeks, I thought that I knew enough of Mormonism to write a book. When I had been here three months, I began to think that I did not know quite as much, and now, after five years, I have come to the conclusion that I really know nothing at all. I have lived in a Mormon family for the past year, but that has not increased my knowledge. They are constantly upon their guard. They treat me kindly, but they never let me know anything. This, I believe, has been the experience

of nearly all the Gentiles resident in Salt Lake City. Gentlemen had no chance of learning anything, and the opportunities of ladies were only a trifle better. Up to this time I had said very little to my children about my doubts and fears. With the exception of my daughter Clara, they were all too young. Clara was just budding into womanhood, and day by day gave promise of more beauty and interest in her future life. I dreaded to cast a cloud across her way by telling her of my own apprehensions in

respect to polygamy. If that were the order of heaven, she would certainly have to live in it, and in any case it was the order of Brigham Young, and my child could not escape from it, for no one, unless at peril of life, could flee from Zion in those days. I kept, therefore, from my daughter all my own troubles, feeling that she herself would soon enough have trials of her own. She saw how much I suffered, and no doubt knew the cause, and although she could not fully

enter into my feelings, her companionship was a great consolation to me, and I loved her all the more because I felt that my own heart was widowed. How often I prayed that she might be spared such a life as that which I lived. We had lived together in polygamy about a year when my husband told me that his young wife desired to have a home of her own, and that he intended to provide her with one. This was a very pleasant intelligence to me, for the sight of that other wife constantly before

my eyes, sitting at my table, in the midst of my family, walking in the garden with my husband in the evening, or tete-a-tete with him in the parlour, was more than I could bear. I began to feel, whether justly or not, that my presence was a restraint to them, and that they felt annoyed when I was with them. This feeling was so strong with me that I constantly avoided them, and I finally concluded to spend the evenings in my own room with my children, for then,

being out of their presence, I should perhaps be at peace. All this time I hoped that my husband would urge me to come back again to the parlour, and several times he did so, but I thought that I was de trope and remained in my room. He thought that I was making myself quite disagreeable, and such probably was the case, for no wife could be pleasant or happy, situated as I was. This, however, was all changed when my husband established a second home. I did not mind being

deprived of his society so long as I could get rid of her. Personally, I had no ill feeling towards her, for she had always treated me with respect. The only reason why I hated her was because she was his wife. Even her presence was painful to me, and when she was near me, I hardly felt able to breathe. Just at that time the marriage of my daughter Clara first began to be talked about seriously. One day my husband, being out driving with Joseph A. Young, the

eldest of the Prophet, the subject was discussed between them, and Joseph A. made a proposition of marriage. This, to me, was the cause of considerable uneasiness, as Joseph A. was a polygamist, and at first I altogether refused to listen to the suggestion. At that time Clara was not fifteen years of age, and not only did I consider her altogether too young to think of marriage, but I was shocked at the bare idea of her becoming a polygamic wife. I almost hated

Joseph for asking for her. Personally, I had no objection to Clara's lover. I had known him for several years. He was an intelligent, generous-hearted, and handsome man of very good standing among the saints, and wealthy. As a friend I valued and esteemed him, but that he, a polygamist, should wish to marry my darling daughter was very repugnant to my feelings. Clara was then growing old enough to understand my more serious thoughts and sentiments, and her companionship was very

precious to me. The thought of her marrying into polygamy was to my mind almost as painful as the thought of her death would have been. My husband agreed with me that she was too young to marry, but on that point he could not offer any great objection, as his own wife, although very womanly in appearance, was but very little older in years. I told Joseph A. of my reluctance to the proposed marriage, and he fully entered into my feelings. I could not absolutely refuse him, but I wished

to gain time. Every day found me more and more weak in the faith, and I thought that if I could only postpone my Clara's marriage for a few years, something might transpire which would relieve me of my difficulty. Joseph promised to wait just as long as we thought proper, if we would only allow him to speak to Clara and explain to her the sentiments with which he regarded her. In this he acted in a way very unlike the Mormon men generally, and I respected him accordingly. I promised him

that I would not influence my daughter, but would let her decide for herself. This, after much careful consideration, I came to the conclusion was all that I could do. My mind at that time was in a very troubled state. Day by day my doubts respecting the plural wife system became stronger and stronger, and I felt that before very long some great change must take place, both in my faith and in my life. At the same time, outward circumstances gave no promise of any such change. My husband gave no

signs of apostasy, and as a saint I knew he would never think of undertaking anything without the permission of Brother Brigham. We did not even dare to leave the city without consulting the prophet. In times, then very recent, it was at the risk and sometimes indeed at the sacrifice of life that anyone left Salt Lake Valley without permission, and even at the present moment no good saint who values his standing in the church would dream of going east without first

obtaining the approval of Brigham Young. I could not therefore, at the time of which I write, foresee the great changes which have since taken place. To refuse my daughter to the prophet's son would, I knew, be utterly useless. By partial submission I might gain some advantages, and the longer I postponed the marriage, the greater chance there was that something might turn up, which we all more or less look for when we are placed in circumstances which admit of the

exercise of very little choice or effort. My only objection against Joseph A. was, as I just stated, that he was a polygamist. But so long as we remained in the church, I could not openly allege this in opposition to the proposed marriage. If my Clara married a single man, there was every chance, if not an absolute certainty, that after a while he would take another wife, or wives. This had been the case with other girls with whom my child was acquainted.

They had married single men, trusting that their influence over them would be sufficient to retain their affections ever to themselves alone. But they had soon reason to see how groundless their expectations and hopes had been. If, on the other hand, I gave my daughter to a polygamist, there was certainly no reason why Joseph A. should be refused. I felt surrounded on every side by difficulties, and out of them all I endeavored to choose the least.

One day my husband told me that Brigham Young had seriously spoken to him about the matter, and had counseled him to let the marriage take place at once, saying that my Clara was quite old enough. After this, objection on my part would have been utterly unavailing. Everything was settled at the fiat of Brigham, and the feelings and judgment of a father and mother in respect to their own daughter were, of course, of not the slightest consequence.

The wedding day was therefore fixed when the sweet flower of my own quiet garden was to be transplanted to another home. We went to the endowment house, my husband, myself, and our daughter, together with some friends of the family. There we met with Joseph A. Young, the expectant bridegroom, his father Brigham Young, Joseph A.'s first wife Mary Young, first wife Mary Young, and several of the brethren. The bride and bridegroom and the

bridegroom's first wife were all dressed in their temple robes. We then entered a small room where the altar of which I have already spoken is placed. At the end of the altar Brigham was seated in a large armchair covered with crimson velvet. The altar also was crimson. Brigham officiated. Joseph A.'s first wife Mary Young knelt in front of the long crimson altar, and my daughter Clara knelt beside her on a sort of fault-stool or ledge arranged for that purpose. Behind the altar knelt

Joseph A. Brigham said, Joseph, are you willing to take Clara Stenhouse to be your lawful and wedded wife for time and for all eternity? Joseph answered, yes. Then Joseph's first wife was told to place the right hand of my daughter in the right hand of her husband in token that she was willing, and then Clara was questioned as Joseph had been. When she replied in the affirmative Brigham said, I pronounce you man and wife in the name of the Lord. Amen. They were now married,

and Brigham Young, Joseph A.'s first wife, and a few other friends came home to the wedding breakfast after which my daughter went to her own pleasant home. Thus my worst fears were realized. My own daughter had become a polygamic wife. She was the fourth wife of her husband Joseph A. Young. It is a source of sorrow to any mother who really loves her children to lose them, even if it be for their own good and happiness. But in my own case there were reasons why I felt the loss of my daughter more than I should have done under ordinary circumstances.

I felt quite desolate without her, for when left all alone, when my husband took his second wife, and when I had no one else to turn to, my little daughter had entwined herself about my heart in a thousand sweet and loving ways. She knew how great an influence music had over me, and how much I loved to hear her play and sing. And when she saw how sad my heart was, or caught me in tears, she would go to her piano and lure me to her side by some sweet song which she knew was dear to my memory. But with her went all that love and gentleness which in my time of deepest trouble sustained me and kept me from absolute despair.

I have often wondered whether Joseph ever realized how great, how dear a gift I bestowed upon him when I gave him my little Clara. But in saying this I do not mean to cast the shadow of a doubt upon his true-heartedness and love towards her. He was always kind and thoughtful, considering her comfort in everything, and although they now have been married seven years, he has never changed, but is the same to her as on the first day of their marriage. A good, kind, and gentle husband he has ever been, anticipating her every wish, tenderly and carefully guarding her from even a painful thought. My only regret has been that he is a polygamist and she a polygamic wife.

Not long after this my husband one day told me that a select few had been chosen to receive their second endowments, and that we were honored with the same privilege. This, I was told, was one of the highest honors that could be conferred upon us, as the second endowments had never been given to anyone since the Mormons left Nauvoo. The glory of this privilege I did not myself however feel, and notwithstanding any respect which might be intended by our names being added to the list of chosen ones, I refused to see the slightest good in the whole affair. I am afraid I was naturally perverse, or was it that the light was now beginning to dawn more clearly upon my mind? I know not, but I raised every possible objection, feeling though I did that all opposition on my part was useless.

I knew that I should have to go, but I felt a dismal satisfaction in letting everyone know how much I hated the system. Our second wife, I say our, because I had been taught that my husband and myself were indissolubly one, even in the matter of taking wives. Our second wife seemed the happiest of us all when the day arrived, and I believe she considered that we were very highly favored. After preparing our temple robes, we started for the endowment house. The reluctance which I felt caused me to lag behind, and I was gently reminded several times that I was making myself very disagreeable.

I did not however feel much remorse, for my husband had still one good, obedient wife walking at his side, who I knew would sympathize with him, and that, as everyone is aware, is more than false to the lot of every man. When we reached the endowment house, we ladies were shown into one room, and our husband into another. We then proceeded to array ourselves in our robes, caps, and aprons, the same as when we received our first endowments, and when all was ready, we were ushered into another room by one of the brethren who was also dressed in his temple robes. There we met our husband and several other brethren, all dressed in the same way. We sat down, and oil was then poured upon the head of our husband by two of the brethren, Daniel H. Wells and another, and he was then ordained a king and priest to all eternity.

After that, we two wives were anointed in like manner, and ordained queens and priestesses to reign and rule, with our husband, over his kingdom in the celestial world. Had I ever solaced myself with the notion, which some Mormon women entertain, that first wives are queens over all the rest, I should have been sadly disappointed when I heard our second wife ordained to the same high office as myself. As it was, however, my faith was so small that I should have been quite contented had they consecrated her alone queen for eternity, so long as they would have allowed me to rule and reign by myself in my own home for time. The ceremony did not last long, but it all appeared to me such folly that I was anxious to leave the place, and though I dared not say so, I was truly ashamed to be seen coming out of the house. While going through these endowments, I was filled with a thorough contempt for everybody and everything around me, and I suppose that my feelings were visible upon my countenance, for after leaving the house, I remember the Apostle John Taylor asking me if I did not feel well, and I told him as plainly as I dared what really was the matter.

He spoke to me very kindly and tried to reassure me, but the scales were now falling from my eyes, and all his arguments availed nothing. Notwithstanding all this, I was not ready yet to cast off the yoke, and a few months after our second endowments, I again gave evidence of my faith. An event occurred in the other branch of my husband's family which produced a strong impression upon my mind. A little daughter was presented to him by his second wife. I was of course expected to go and visit the young mother and child, and I thought I could never bring my mind to do that. It would be impossible for me to define my feelings at that time, loathing and hatred for him and for her, and even for the poor innocent babe on the one side, and on the other thoughts of what I considered was my duty towards God, my husband, and his other lawful wife.

I was bewildered. My heart said, Do not go, but my conscience said, It is your duty to treat her kindly, for she believes she has done you no wrong. Then I thought, She is a young mother, and without you frowning upon her, sorrow will come swiftly enough to her door. I saw that my husband was troubled as to what my feelings might be, although he had not the courage to tell me himself of the interesting event. He was afraid of paining me, and sent a lady friend with the intelligence. I spoke to him myself and told him that I would go and see Belinda and her child. He thanked me and said, God bless you for that. Then I went to see her, but I was thankful when the visit was over, and although I went again many times and tried my very best to treat her kindly, and even affectionately, I could never get over the painful feelings which agitated my mind when in her presence.